


So Alone

by mouseratstan



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: AU, Drunk Antics, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, not a very happy ending, sad drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseratstan/pseuds/mouseratstan
Summary: Why exactly does Jean-Ralphio say he's so alone that night he's drunk off SnakeJuice?An AU set during 3x13 The Fight.
Relationships: Tom Haverford/Jean-Ralphio Saperstein
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65





	So Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Megan made me do this but now I kind of really ship it. Blame her.

Tom Haverford sits alone in the bathroom of the Snakehole Lounge, holding an empty bottle of SnakeJuice in his hands.

This was supposed to be his night, his shining moment, the time everyone finally realizes that maybe Tom actually is smart, and has a lot going for him, and has fantastic ideas. And for a while, it was going better than he could've dreamed it. Even Ron fucking Swanson liked the drink, for God's sake, and Ron hardly likes anything at all.

So where did it all go wrong?

Oh, right. Leslie and Ann started screaming at each other, Ben was sad and started drinking alone (staring at Leslie, but nobody is going to bring that up to him), Andy and April started taking their weird roleplay a little too far, Ron was just… dancing (by far the strangest thing), and God, who the hell even let Jerry in the door in the first place? Just the sight of him nearly ruined the whole night.

And now everyone is way too drunk and people are passing out and crying and speaking gibberish and Donna and Chris are rounding everyone up to take them home. And all Tom can do is sit in the bathroom and for once, not even care that his clothes are touching the floor (okay, he sanitized before sitting. He's drunk but not  _ that  _ drunk). 

“Tommy!” a voice yells, slightly slurred, and Tom flinches as his best friend, Jean-Ralphio, flings himself into the bathroom, his hair a wild mess. “I've been looking everywhere for you, my man, where've you been?”

“In here,” Tom admits. “I'm a failure, man, it's over.”

Jean-Ralphio looks incredulous, and squats in front of Tom so he can grab his shoulders. “A  _ failure _ ? Are you kidding me? Tommy, this night was the best night of all these sorry people’s lives. It's a success! And let's not forget about that  _ paper _ —”

“The paper means nothing if it's a one night deal, Jean-Ralphio,” Tom spits, and he realizes, through the strange fogginess of alcohol, that they are sitting very close to each other. “Chris is making me sell my shares. Everyone is throwing up and mad at each other. They're mad at me! Even I'm almost mad at me!”

“Why do you care about what your boss thinks anyway?” Jean-Ralphio tells him, shaking his shoulders slightly. “He's beautiful, but he's got no brains. But I have got so much brain power, and I'm not mad at you.”

Tom takes a moment, drops the empty SnakeJuice bottle to the floor, and grabs Jean-Ralphio’s elbows to steady himself. “Yeah,” he mumbles, staring at his friend closely. “Yeah, you're right. You're like, the coolest guy I know, besides me, even though you messed up all those rhymes—”

“I'm working on that, I'll get it right—”

“— and you're not mad at me, so… so who cares what Chris says. Screw Chris!” Tom says it with such conviction that it prompts Jean-Ralphio to leap upwards with pride, only to fall over on top of Tom a moment later, the alcohol making him spin.

“Standing up, that's…” Jean-Ralphio gasps, his weight nearly crushing Tom’s legs. “That maybe wasn't the best idea.”

Tom nods, holding on to his friend to make sure he doesn't fall over again. “That's okay. Screw Chris from the floor.”

Jean-Ralphio nods eagerly. “Screw Chris from the floor.”

The alcohol has made Tom suddenly very grateful for Jean-Ralphio, even if his legs feel numb under him. And it strikes him, suddenly, that his friend has already been by his side for a great number of things when no one else was, and why the hell hasn't he told him how much he appreciates him?

“Jean-Ralphio,” Tom mumbles, but he's unsure what he's going to say to him.

“Tommy,” he says in return, but Tom has no time to try and formulate a response, no time to understand what's happening, or even who leaned in first, because as soon as he opens his mouth his words are swallowed by Jean-Ralphio, and— wow, okay, so maybe making out with him feels a lot better than he ever could have expected.

And maybe it's at the fault of SnakeJuice, or feelings buried far too well, but now Tom and Jean-Ralphio are gripping at each other in a frenzy, with a passion they bring to all their projects. Jean-Ralphio is tall enough to press Tom against the bathroom wall and Tom discovers for the first time that he loves how Jean-Ralphio’s hair feels between his fingers, and it's a damn shame he never thought to touch it before.

Tom feels small next to Jean-Ralphio, but at the same time, he feels larger than life. He feels like he can do anything, because who else has always supported his endeavors like him? Who else has been there for it all, and will be there for even more, no matter what happens? Most people would've given up by now, but not Jean-Ralphio.

_ Oh my god,  _ Tom thinks,  _ I’m making out with Jean-Ralphio. _

And it's with that terrifying, sobering thought that Tom gasps with sudden realization, taking hold of Jean-Ralphio’s collar to push him off his lap. He stumbles over the bathroom tile, rubbing his hip, blinking curiously at Tom.

“Tommy?” he questions, and Tom shudders at the nickname. Good god, what has he done? What kind of life-changing can of worms has Tom just opened? He's not ready for this, he is absolutely not ready for this.

Usually Tom is okay with jumping headfirst into new ideas, but not now. Now, for the first time in his life, he actually pauses.

“I shouldn't have done that,” Tom gasps, pressing himself firmly against the bathroom wall. “We really shouldn't have… I’m not…”

“Really, we don't need to fight this, Tommy—”

“I can't do this.” Tom shakes his head, and tries to stand up. “I need… You know what? It was nothing. I'll see you soon, Jean-Ralphio. In my office. We can discuss next steps for SnakeJuice.”

That night, Tom and Jean-Ralphio are both pushed into Donna’s Benz with the rest of the Parks department, everyone a drunk mess, and for once, Tom doesn't fight his nomination to sit in the trunk. He curls into the tiny space and he listens to the giggling in front of him.

“Where to first?” Donna asked. There's a tiny pause.

“Your mother’s butt,” Leslie bursts, and everyone laughs (Ben the hardest, but again, no one is going to say anything to him), and even Tom cracks a smile, but it fades as soon as he hears Jean-Ralphio’s contribution.

“ _ I’m so alone _ ,” Jean-Ralphio whines through the laughter, and Tom knows exactly why he says it.

Tom won't admit to it, but he feels so alone, too.


End file.
